You Belong With Me
by AlexandriaAngelMist
Summary: Just a little fic inspired by Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me". Idk if its an actual song fic. But I thought this pairing would go well with this song.  Yay, fluffiness!  But you have to read and find out what happens! ;


Sooo~... This is my first Spamano and my first song fic (of sorts... idk what this is)

I own Hetalia about as much as I own the world. Wich, in case you were wondering, is not at all. (Yet *evil laugh*)

Anywho, please enjoy~!

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><p>You Belong With Me<p>

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, She's upset  
>She's going off about something that you said<br>She doesn't get your humor like I do

I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night  
>I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like<br>And she'll never know your story like I do

But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts  
>She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers<br>Dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find  
>That what you're lookin' for has been here the whole time<p>

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you  
>Been here all along so why can't you see?<br>You belong with me  
>You belong with me<p>

Walkin' the streets with you in your worn out jeans  
>I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be<br>Laughing on the park bench thinkin' to myself  
>Hey isn't this easy?<p>

And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town  
>I haven't seen it in awhile, since she brought you down<br>You say you find I know you better than that  
>Hey, Whatcha doing with a girl like that?<p>

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers  
>She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers<br>Dreaming bout the day when you wake up and find  
>That what you're looking for has been here the whole time<p>

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you  
>Been here all along so why can't you see?<br>You belong with me

Standin' by, waiting at your back door  
>All this time how could you not know that?<br>You belong with me  
>You belong with me<p>

Oh I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night  
>I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're about to cry<br>I know your favorite songs and you tell me about your dreams  
>I think I know where you belong. I think I know it's with me.<p>

Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you?  
>Been here all along so why can't you see?<br>You belong with me

Standing by or waiting at your back door  
>All this time how could you not know that<br>You belong with me  
>You belong with me<p>

Have you ever thought just maybe  
>You belong with me<br>You belong with me  
>~~~<p>

_"Lovino Vargas, don't you _dare _call me a-"_

"What, a bitch? Listen, I'll call you whatever the fuck I want to call you. But I got to go. _Ciao_, bitch"

Lovino hung up the phone on a raging Belgian and placed it back on its receiver in the kitchen as the Italian's self proclaimed 'best friend' walked in laughing. Antonio, the ever smiling, sunny Spaniard, had obviously heard the last bit of Lovino's conversation with his current girlfriend.

"Ah! _Hola, Lovinito_! You are just as cheerful as always, I see!" The man's brilliant white teeth shone off brightly from his perfectly tanned skin. His warm smile shone with a happiness only a true Spaniard could always seem to have.

"What do you want, tomato bastard," Lovino said with a scowl; his equivalent to a warm greeting.

"I've missed you, _Lovinito_," Antonio answered warmly, quickly walking up to the fiery, cursing Italian and pulling him into a hug. "It's been so long! Can't I just want to come and visit you?"

"No, you can't," Lovino stated, half-heartedly, his cheeks beginning to become dusted in red. As he pulled away, he noticed Antonio's mouth opening to say something, but cut him off with a, "S-shut up! Don't say it!"

"But you are such a cute little _tomate!_"

"I told you not to say it!"

Antonio then received a rather forceful fist to his stomach. He doubled over, slightly, but was laughing as he regained his breath. He knew his Lovi- no wait, not his Lovi… Belle's Lovi…- was only joking, and it was one of the many things he loved about the Italian. (Because you are allowed to love things about your best friend, right?)

"Well, as you're here, you might as well help me make dinner," Lovino said as he watched Antonio recover and stand up. There was a pot of boiling water on the stove; Lovi was getting ready to make pasta.

"Of course, Lovinito!"

And the two set to work on making a pasta dinner; which was going to be fantastic, because Italian pasta dinners always were.

As they cooked, Lovino decided that it was a bit too quiet, and that they should have so music while they worked. He leaned over Antonio, who took a step back, to reach the radio he kept on his kitchen counter for just such times as this. He smiled as he flipped to his favorite station, and then went back to the chopping he was doing.

Now, Antonio was _sure_ that it had been an accident, because Lovino didn't even notice. But when Antonio had taken a step back, it had just so happened to be with the foot which was closest to Lovi. When the Italian had leaned over him to turn on the radio, Lovino's leg had brushed against the inside of Antonio's thy. It was then the Spaniard's turn to turn 'as red as a tomato'.

Neither spoke for some time; the only thing that could be heard was the chopping of tomatoes for the sauce and music in the background. That was, until a certain song came on the radio, and Lovino laughed.

"Belle hates this song," he stated in explanation to Antonio's confused look, who knew that Lovino loved the song.

"Ay, but Lovi, it means so much to you," Antonio said, confused. This song was one of the few things that Lovino had left of his parents; dancing the Tango to this song was how they had first met. Now that they were gone, the melody always brought back bittersweet memories to Lovino; Antonio, as well, as he had been with the Italian though the whole ordeal.

"It does not, damn it," Lovino said, staring intently at the food. He always refused to show any emotion other than anger, especially if that emotion may be accompanied with tears.

"You didn't tell her," Antonio said, in shock. It wasn't a question; he simply knew.

For once, Lovino was silent. He was a lot more caring and considerate than he would lead you to believe. While he may say it was simply because he didn't want to go thought the trouble, Antonio knew that Lovino hadn't told his girlfriend because he didn't want her to worry about him whenever the song came on. He didn't want to force her to like the song for his sake.

"Well," Antonio said after a moment, as he dumped the last of the spices into the sauce. "If she won't dance with you, you'll just have to tango with me."

Before Lovino could think about what he was talking about, his Spanish friend had had sat the lid on the pot on the stove and turned to face an angrily confused Italian. Taking the others hand, Antonio smiled and pulled Lovino closer, putting his other hand around the brunet's waist. He then began to lead the other around the kitchen timed perfectly with the song.

Perfect, that is, except for Lovino desperately watching his feet as to not step on his current partner's.

"B-bastard," he yelled at Antonio. "Y-you know I don't dance!"

"You're doing fine, _Lovinito_," Antonio said with a laugh. "Just follow me!"

And Lovino did. For that song, he was quiet, and followed Antonio though the different steps and turns. His face was red as he watched his feet carefully, not wanting to step on Antonio's.

When the song was over, Lovino quickly let go of Antonio. He grumbled something about tomatoes, a couple of obscenities tossed in, and went back to cooking the almost-finished food.

"Lovi, can I stay for dinner, please," Antonio asked, really only to be polite; he knew Lovino wouldn't mind.

"Fine, you stupid, lazy, good for nothing Spaniard," Lovino grumbled; which, in Lovi-language, meant, 'sure, 'Tonio! Stay and have dinner with me!' Or, at least, in Antonio's mind it did.

Dinner went normally, or as normally as anything would get with Antonio and Lovino. There was conversation, and, of course, quite a bit of swearing from Lovino. Everything was going fine, until Lovino's cell phone began to ring.

"_Ciao_," Lovino answered, and then was silent for a moment. "What's wrong Belle?"

_Something must be wrong,_ Antonio thought. He knew just how seldom it was that Lovino showed just how caring he was. There must have been something in Belle's voice to really worry Lovino.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I'll meet you there." And he hung up the phone without a single insult. "I'm out of here, tomato bastard. I think you should know your own way home." As he said this, he stood and started walking swiftly to the front door.

"What is it, Lovinito," Antonio asked, standing, as well, and following the Italian to the front room in enough time to see him throwing on his light weight, black jacket and putting his hand on the doorknob.

"Belle wants me to meet her at the park," he answered, tone lacking its usual sarcasm. Then, with a little chuck, trying to be his normal self, "Crazy bitch must not realize it's going to get dark soon."

"I'll come with you," Antonio said happily, grabbing his own hoodie from off the back of his favorite chair (which he had asked Lovino if he could have multiple times).

"Just go the fuck home," he returned, impatiently.

"But… it's on my way home, Lovi."

"Fine, whatever. Just don't slow me down, got it?"

"Of course not, _mi tomate._"

So, together they set off down the road in the direction of the park. It wasn't too far of a distance; a very nice walk. As they walked side by side, Antonio had the urge to reach over and take Lovino's hand. Maybe, if he could just slip his hand into Lovi's without him noticing…

"What the hell?" He had noticed.

"What," Antonio asked, wide innocent eyes turned on Lovino. "Can't I hold my best friend's hand?"

"We're not fucking little girls, tomato bastard! Guys holding hands means something completely different." Lovino, his face very red, let go of Antonio's hand quickly and stuffed it into the deep pockets of his old, worn out blue jeans. Antonio then stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, as well.

The rest of the walk was silent, but they arrived at the park fairly quickly. The sun was getting threateningly low in the sky, and it threw odd shadows over the park grounds, and turn the sky beautiful shades of red, orange, and pink.

"It doesn't look like Belle's here, yet," Antonio pointed out. Lovino simply huffed and plopped himself down on a nearby bench to wait.

Antonio, sitting himself down on the bench as well, was a little worried.

"Are you okay, _Lovinito_," he asked, concern in his voice. "I would have expected a, 'Damn, Belle, always making me fucking late'… or something. _Si?_"

Those words coming out of Antonio's usually polite mouth, and in that beautiful Spanish accent, were unbelievably adorable, even if Lovino would never admit it. It did, however, crack the Italian up. He started, laughing, actually laughing. It was a rare sight, indeed.

"Good work, bastard," he said, as he began to calm down. "That's exactly what you should have expected, well done."

The awestruck Spaniard was quiet for a few moments. Lovino was laughing; not in sarcasm, not to make fun of him, but honestly laughing. That was something that didn't happen often, and, soon, Antonio joined his friend.

_Mi Dio_, when was the last time that Lovi had smiled like that? It had to be at least since he had started dating Belle. But that smile could have easily lit up the entire park, had the sun decided to go down early.

And it was just like that, the two friends sitting and laughing together, when Belle walked up to them. Lovino instantly sobered up when he saw his girlfriend, and Antonio was quick to follow.

The Belgian wore a short orange skirt and heels which had to be at least three inches tall. Her dress wasn't surprising, of course. Her and her co-captain of the cheerleading squad, Elizabeta, often wore outfits similar, but still… Looking down at his own plain T-shirt and sneakers, Antonio wondered if Lovino really liked what Belle wore.

"Lovino, we need to talk," said the Belgian sternly, arms crossed. Then, looking at Antonio, "Alone."

"_Ay, si, _of course, Belle," Antonio said, standing. "_Hasta luego, Lovinito. Buena noche, Belle."_

Then, with a little wave to the both of them, he turned and began walking in the direction of his house. It wasn't a long walk, his house was only a few minutes away from the park, but it felt like it was it was hours. Though he was always smiling when Lovino can see him, even as he is leaving, as soon as the Italian is out of sight, Antonio can feel his heart sink.

As he approached his front door, he felt a few drops of water hit his skin. It was beginning to rain. And it wasn't fifteen minutes before the light sprinkle and turned into a downpour. He watched the falling rain out of his window, as a car would pass every now and then, trying desperately to get back home.

When the rain had become heavy, Antonio had begun to worry about his little Lovinito (not even noticing that his thoughts had once again called Lovino "his"). However, Lovino would be fine, the Spaniard knew that. He and Belle would probably just stay in the pavilion area in the park until the rain let up, or perhaps they had gotten to Belle's car before the rain had picked up. Belle lived quite a bit farther from the park than either Lovino or Antonio, and would have had to drive there.

Even knowing all this, though, Antonio still worried. He waited by the phone for probably an hour, hoping that Lovino would think to call and tell him that everything is alright. He did not, however expect anything; just hoped.

It was well past dark, probably about nine o'clock by now, and still raining at least a good hour after he had gotten home. So, it was no surprised that Antonio jumped about a foot in the air when he heard a knock at his door. Who would ever be crazy enough to be out in this weather at this time of night?

"_Ay! Lovino_," Antonio exclaimed in shock as he opened the door to a sopping wet Italian. "What are you doing here? And… are you crying?"

"OF COURSE I'M NOT FUCKING CRYING, BASTARD," Lovino yelled, angrily, but his voice cracked on the last word, giving him away. "D-damn it…" he uttered more quietly now.

Antonio looked at Lovino in shock as he stood there in the door frame. His clothes were hanging, dripping from his body, making him seem even smaller than usual. His hair looked darker than usual, all plastered to his head. Except, of course, for that one curl, which always defied gravity, no matter what state Lovino was in. Finally, Lovino didn't bother to wipe away the wetness from his face that was clearly a mixture of rain and tears, told by his bloodshot eyes.

"Lovi," he said, caring in his voice. "_Mi Lovinito. __Que__?_ Tell me what happened?"

"She dumped me, you idiot," he yelled, his voice full of sadness and rage, as he launched himself at Antonio. He began pounding his friend's chest in anger, not necessarily at the Spaniard, but at the world in general.

Antonio stood, awestruck for a moment, and let Lovino let out his frustration and sadness. Then, after a little while of simply letting Lovino hit him, he grabbed each of the Italian's wrists and pulls him into a tight hug. It was only out of complete emotional shock and distress that the brunet didn't fight back. In fact, he actually buried his face into Antonio's shoulder and clutched at the front of his shirt.

"It will be okay, Lovi," Antonio soothed, stroking that wet hair, which still managed to feel soft, gently.

"It will not, bastard," Lovino mumbled, making a fist and halfheartedly hitting the Spaniard's chest once again.

"It will, Lovi. Because…" He pulled back, only enough to see Lovino's face and take it gently, lovingly in his hand. His arm slipped slowly down from around the other's shoulder to around his waist. "Now you can finally see that…. Lovino, you belong with me."

Antonio leaned down, closing his eyes, and captured Lovino's lips quickly enough not to give the Italian time to escape immediately. He had been waiting too long for this to have his crush pull away before he even got his chance. But, to his astonishment, Lovino made no such move.

The Italian was too surprised to do much. His eyes widened as Antonio's lips were on his own, and his cheeks began to burn through the cool of the water still lingering there. He thought, after a few seconds, of pulling away, but quickly realized that he didn't want to. Instead, he found himself kissing Antonio ever so slightly back.

The Spaniard was amazed and delighted when Lovino began to kiss him back. He had honestly not expected that. To be pulled away from, cursed at, and possibly smacked, yes, but not kissed back. So, without breaking away, Antonio pulled Lovino inside and shut the door. Though, it wasn't but a few moments after that that Lovino pulled away, red faced.

"Y-you may be on to something, bastard," Lovino admitted, a little breathlessly.

"_Te amo, Lovino,"_ Antonio whispered in Lovino's ear. "_Yo siepre te ame. _And you belong with me._"_

* * *

><p>So, yeah... Like I said, my fist Spamano and (sortof)songfic. I'm really self concious about how I've writen Sapin and Romano, each, just because I haven't done it before, yet... So sorry if it kindof sucked :

It took me forever to finish this, just because I kind of got out of the mood for writing, and then got really busy with school and what not, so... *shrug* I'm not sure how it turned out. But hopefully I'll get some more time soon (Summer's coming up!) and I'll get back to writing.

Finally, review, please~~~! I'd like to know how you liked it, and, if you think I need to work on these characters, what should I pay more attention to? Like I said, its my first time writing them, and I need to know honestly how I did.

Thanks so much for reading, everyone! Love you all~~!


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